


Dream Lovers

by krikkiter68



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: BDSM, Bondage, Explicit Sex, F/F, F/M, Femslash, Friendship, Gen, Het, M/M, Platonic Male/Female Relationship, Slash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-21
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-01-20 22:16:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12442923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krikkiter68/pseuds/krikkiter68
Summary: "I want a dream lover/So I don't have to dream alone..."  Bobby DarinFollow up to Warmth.  The Doctor and Bill decide to write and share a dream diary.  Talk about tempting fate...





	1. Chapter 1

It's warm, so warm, and he can tell he's lying on velvet, and even with his eyes closed he knows it's purple. The richest scents of lavender, sandalwood and jasmine assail his nostrils, and, as his eyes flick open, he can see an array of beautiful, multi-coloured, jewel-like lanterns festooning the ceiling, casting spirals of light through the dim room. He tries to lift an arm, and starts to find one wrist, then the other, gently yet firmly gripped by black velvet ropes. His ankles, too, his long legs spread wide. And usually at this point he'd be struggling and yelling for help, but it doesn't happen. A sense of peace, of reconciliation, seeps through his veins, his naked form caressed by the warm, perfumed air. He murmurs in pleasure, closes his eyes.

"Doctor?"

He opens his eyes to a perfect vision. It's Clara. He smiles incredulously to see her. Her deep-red, painted lips part in a gentle smile, her dark hair styled in that adorable bob she wore on the Orient Express. One of his fondest times with her. She looks down, and giggles.

"We must stop meeting like this. People will talk."

"Hmm?" he asks, brow furrowing. "What d'ye mean?"

Her smile turns slightly wicked.

"You're naked."

He gazes up at her. She's wearing a diaphanous gown, black with an intricate pattern of crimson lilies, thigh-high black suede boots, an array of tinkling bracelets, and nothing else. He can tell she's wearing nothing else because that gown's completely see-through. His eyes roam down her form, over her perfect breasts with their perked pink nipples, the beautiful curved lines of her abdomen, her thighs, her plump little mound with its nest of dark curling hair. Even from a distance, he can smell the musk of her arousal.

"So are you. Pretty much."

She giggles, and twirls for him.

"Like it?"

His mouth goes dry, and he can't answer. She's perfect. She comes to a halt and smiles at him.

"Cat got your tongue, has it?"

"Clara..."

Oh God, she's perfect. 

Clara stoops and picks something up from the bed. A wide strip of black suede, with tassels at the end. She taps it absently against her palm.

"New toy. I bought it today. Would you like to try it?"

He nods. She clambers onto the bed and he gasps as she starts stroking him. First, the soles of his feet, then up, in circles, over his calves, then his thighs. He shudders as Clara caresses his inner thighs, and groans aloud as the suede strokes over his balls. It's heavenly.

"And now for the main event..." Clara says, her voice turning husky.

He jolts in his restraints as her suede wand contacts his prick, thrusting up into the air, desperate for more contact. She purrs with satisfaction, and he grins, incredulously. His Impossible Girl. His back arches as the impossibly smooth fabric caresses the soft skin of his steel-hard cock. His eyes roll back, mind and body seemingly separating in bliss, until eventually he registers the soft grip of her small hand around his flesh. He opens his eyes again to see her gazing down and licking her lips, and the sight nearly undoes him.

"So big," she breathes out, caressing the underside of his cock with her thumb, smearing wetness over the tip. "I can barely get my thumb and forefinger around it," she says, and he swells again at her words, as if obeying her voice. "Shall I get on top of you, Doctor?"

"...Yes..." he manages to gasp out.

She lets out a throaty giggle as she straddles him, booted thighs spread wide, takes hold of him, guides him into her. He cries out as her wetness surrounds him. Looks up to see her, biting her lip in concentration, just the tip of him inside her. She slides back and forth, riding him, and he can feel her erect jewel pressing against the tip of his cock. He approves.

She speeds up, moaning, and he can feel a flood of wetness covering him, dripping down his length. She bears down, and he can feel her walls pulsate as she takes him, deeper, deeper, deeper. It's heaven. And finally there she is, seated fully on his prick, impossibly tight and wet and clenching around him, dark eyes shining, lips wide open, gasping like a soul in bliss.

She breathes deeply, raising herself before sliding down on him again. And again. She smiles at him.

"Do you like it, Doctor?" she says in a breathy whisper.

"Yes. Oh God, Clara, yes."

One of her hands strays over her gauze gown, first to one breast, then the other, pinching her nipples. She gazes at him, dark eyes questioning. He nods. Her other hand descends her torso, to stroke the place where they join. Another flood of sweet wetness, and he swells still further as she starts to rock. Faster and faster, caressing him, caressing herself. When she's got into a fast rhythm, he joins her, thrusting up inside her, and time whirls around them, and it's endless, until he hits a particularly sweet spot inside her, and she screams with ecstasy, pulsing around him, and oh God, he's on the brink, the brink of joining her, the very brink...

 

Starlight, silence. He's alone, very hard and very annoyed, his blankets lying at the foot of his bed. He sighs, raising an arm and covering his eyes to cut out the light.

Damn it, he thinks. Typical. And then another thought strikes him. That dream diary he'd agreed to start with Bill, starting that day, with no omissions or excuses? Oh, God. 

What in the universe is she going to think of him?


	2. Chapter 2

Bill rounded the corner and saw the Doctor bending over the console. Grinning, she stalked up behind him, bounded up the steps and hugged him from behind, resting her head on his shoulder.

“Good morning, Bill,” the Doctor intoned as she twined her long arms around him, still gazing at one of the screens.

“Morning yourself! What’s it gonna be today, then?”

The Doctor turned his head, mouth quirking into a half-smile.

“Leaving that up to you, Bill. What do ye want?”

“I’ll tell you what I’d like to do. I really wanna read that dream diary. All those places you’ve seen, I bet it’s wild.”

“Ah. Well…maybe later,” the Doctor said. Bill could swear his cheeks were reddening. “It contains matters that may be considered…somewhat intimate – “

“What’s that?” Nardole said, appearing from nowhere at the base of the steps. “Rude dream, was it?”

“Never you mind,” the Doctor said, an edge of annoyance in his tone. “How did you know about the dream diary, anyway?”

“I didn’t. Can I have a look, then?”

“No, you may not! Haven’t you got some shoes to polish or something?”

“Alright, alright. By the time I’ve finished, you’ll be able to see your face in them. How come she gets all the good jobs, anyway?” Nardole muttered as he turned to walk back down the corridors.


End file.
